Season Four—Episode 17 (De-Bait-Able)

By 3:00pm that afternoon, the skies had cleared and there was a strategic game plan in place for the hodgepodge group of opposites now teamed up with Ms. Tawny Bishop as their new leader. MNR Officer Marlin Salty grumbled the most about not being in charge. But to Rusty, it seemed as though the man was willing to complain about most anything and everything—especially not being in charge.

To find the key to the missing persons, and whomever was responsible for those missing—Tawny was insistent on business as usual for Flathers and Scales Fishy Outfitters. Or at least a watered-down version of the operation where all members of the search would be participating at one level or another.

For Rusty Flathers… This act of continuation seemed De-Bait-Able, considering Tawny had officially put him in charge as lead guide for their newly arriving guests and now he felt like he couldn’t lead his way out of a wet paper bag.

Plus, Rusty was balking on several other points:

–Why would I want new customers to arrive when I can’t even find the ones we lost?

–How can I be expected to find fish when I can’t even find my way around the lake?

–What’s usual about business as usual, when I now have more staff at the island, pretending to be staff?

These said thoughts raced through Rusty’s frizzy-haired noggin but were kept to himself. Perch on a plate, he didn’t dare dispute her plan. And gosh darn it her silver-tongue tone was a deadly musky charmer.

Rod Gills hitched a ride with Rusty as he captained Hooked on Poutine to the mainland for the newly arriving guests. There was a 4:00pm pick-up slated and Rod would be acting as the “camp hand”, plus he needed to brief the gang at Raker’s Marine as to his whereabouts and recent swearing in as Stash McGivern’s temporary assistant with the Ontario Provincial Police.

“I’ll run up and see if the guests have arrived,” offered Rod as they secured the boat at the mainland dock. “Plus, I need to let Minnie know what’s happening.”

“Yeah… Supposed to be three guys from Cleveland,” replied Rusty. “The reservation is under the name Pikeannoli. Three guys total.”

Rod’s wife Minnie was a firecracker. As in, he opened the back door to the marina and made his way quietly across eggshells through the shop and up to the front desk.

Then he cautiously approached his bride from behind and put his hand on her hips. Yep, an M-80 was children’s play. Her reaction to his reappearance would be classified nuclear.

“Rod Gills!” she turned and unloaded, “Where in the blazes have you been! You think this marina can run itself! There are camp orders backing up—two tourist boats have been towed in off the lake—I have a salon appointment in twenty minutes—And you have been gone God only knows where all day!”

Gritting his teeth and casting caution to the wind, “Hi hot momma,” was Rod’s response.

“Hot momma my… Get your greasy hands off my hips and where in the hell have you been?!”

 “Shhhhhhh darling… Double top secret…”

“Double what? You have no secrets, Rod Gills! You smell like a waste fish—have the hair of a musk ox—and everyone from here to Jackfish knows you’re an escape artist when it comes to getting work done around here.”

“Not this time honey, there are shenanigans happening at the new Flathers place, and Stash McGivern shanghaied me this morning to be his assistant deputy,” Rod quickly spewed before Minnie got the urge to slap his face.

“What sort of happenings?”

“Can’t say right now,” pleaded Rod in earnest, “But I’m looking for their next arrivals, and then I have to get back out to the camp.”

“Can’t say because you’re as clueless as the day is long!” Then before Minnie could continue to contest his news bulletin and the potential of missing her appointment to sit and gossip under a dome-shaped hood dryer, the bell rang on the glass door of the marina, and three gentlemen entered the building.

Tall, dark hair, middle-aged and overweight led the trio. Next was a mid-sized redhead, medium frame, younger man with a contractor’s build and muscles that had not aged. And finally came number three—short—quite short—balding and beyond his prime with a crinkly frame.

“These three guys couldn’t be more different,” thought Rod as he caught a glimpse of them and scampered out the back of the shop before being seen.

Then Minnie turned to say, “Must be Flathers guests,” but before she could get the words out Rod was already around the side of the building and coming through the front door.

“Hey fellas, my name’s Rod,” he burst out. “Any chance you guys are heading out to FSFO (Flathers and Scales Fishy Outfitters)?

“Ahhhh… Yeah…” Nodded the overweight dark-haired guy as he extended a hand for greeting. “I’m Alvin Pikeannoli, and these are my brothers Cy and Ted.”

“Ok great,” responded Rod. “Well, the boss is waiting in the passenger boat, you can pull your vehicle over to the loading dock and we’ll get you going.”

“Oh, we didn’t drive…” overweight dark-haired guy stammered.

And then the redhead jumped in, “Yeah, we flew, so the cab already dropped us and is gone. Just need to grab our bags from outside the door.”

“Alrighty then,” an innocent Rod replied, as he watched Minnie from behind the counter mouthing the words, “WHAT CAB SERVICE?”

Then without breaking focus she raised her chin and simultaneously reached under the counter to shut off the OPEN sign.

–To Be Continued— 

Season Four—Episode 16 (Floats My Boat)

After falling off the dock and into the bow of Tawny’s boat… The anchor lying on the open deck left a welt on his back… But it was Rusty’s pride that hurt the most. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to be seen as confident…large and in charge.

An idle mind was something he had never been accused of. It was quite the opposite. Rusty’s thoughts, specifically those related to Ms. Tawny Bishop swirled and twirled like a topwater musky bait.

–Was she an alpha personality? 1000-percent.

–Did she think twice about telling him what was what, regardless of whether he was supposed to be the boss? Not once ever.

–Were her years of experience on the lake insurmountable even if he spent the next decade of his life living on this island? Absolutely.

–Did her overall smoke show attributes create a permanent lump in his throat to which he constantly felt as if he were trying to swallow an oversized bobber? A million times, YES.

“Just get off the floor of the boat, and don’t say something stupid,” was his final thought that got his racing mouse of a brain off the spinning wheel. Then he moved toward the stern of the boat, near Tawny, as she continued to speak with Cosmoid while securing the skiff to the dock.

She then turned to face Rusty as he simultaneously mumbled something as if there were twenty-three lead head jigs in his mouth, and it came out as “You….god love….happy here….see you.”

          “Jeez Flathers. Pull it together. You hit your head on that tumble?” she replied. And then Tawny punched him forcefully in his right shoulder as he attempted to perform his patented arms stretched forward—butt out—awkward Rusty Flathers hug. Of which she was obviously not participating.

“Ouch!” he grimaced. But the pain was brief. As if she knew the exact amount of force required to bring him back to pay attention. “You were the last person I expected to see pulling into the harbor.”

          “Last time I checked… My name is Bishop,” Tawny replied. “And I made a promise to you—first by agreeing to get you through your first season—then by replacing myself with Uncle Clarence who would honor my word.”

“But now he’s gone,” replied Rusty. “And somehow I feel responsible.”

          “Well, you’re wrong. Bishops don’t just disappear… And you are in no way to blame for whatever it is that’s happening.”

The way she addressed Rusty (her words made him tingle), so directly—confidently—reassuringly—It made him shrug his shoulders in such a fashion as to get the collar of his jacket to rub the goose bumps off his bare neck.

“But you were gone,” Rusty continued. “Australia… Part of the Three Eagles… The Kraken… How did you get word about what’s going on?”

          “The spirit world, Rusty. Least you forget my origins as a First Nation Ojibwe.”

“Somewhat familiar,” he continued. “So, were you contacted by the sky or the water?”

          “Neither.”

“What do you mean? I thought all spirit messages traveled by sky or water?”

          “Not all of them. Now, let’s get up to the lodge and see what your posse of clowns is up to.” And with that… She hopped out of the boat and marched her way up the pier.

Rusty followed suit with Cosmoid close behind and Link bringing up the rear. If the pup could talk, he most likely would have said something along the lines of, “Can you two knuckleheads not put two and two together… Or was I the only one watching Sally send out text messages before she left… Spirit world my paw!” And then he barked TWICE, because at least he knew the truth.

Inside the lodge was a roaring fire. Wet jackets over the backs of chairs were steaming. Stash McGivern attempted to hold court at the head of the dining room table but eventually sat down in frustration as everyone insisted on talking over each other. Wendigos—Clarence—Moose Island—Oscar and Grover—and then Tawny Bishop appeared like a prophet, outfitted in her top-of-the-line Helly Hansen Skagen Offshore sailing jacket.

Drops of rain slid free from the ends of her jet-black hair and with it the sure scent of cedar carried itself across the room. There was no brushing back the dampness of her hair that carried a weight of certainty.

Then something clicked. The light bulbs in the dining room flickered twice, drew dim, and extinguished. A sudden breeze hammered on the lodge windows. The trophy northern pike, mounted on the wall nearest the harbor, fell from its position and crashed to the hardwood floor.

Silence. Dead silence.

Minister Neville Thorne looked to the ceiling and crossed the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. His gaze then went directly to Celine, and she slowly stopped chewing a splintery acorn-oatmeal breakfast concoction.

Rusty thought, “WENDIGO!” And went full-on Doobie Flathers running toward the hearth to grab a burning log.

“It followed us!” shrieked Celine. “The creature with the insatiable taste for flesh is here!”

Then Tawny walked over to the breaker panel near the entrance to the kitchen and yelled at Cos who had bread going in the toaster and was warming coffee in the microwave. “Your generator connection is still overloading. Did you forget you can’t run those two things at the same time?”

After that she turned back to the crowd of would-be Wendigo victims, shook her head in disbelief and addressed them by saying, “Alright, let’s calm ourselves, everyone please take a seat, I have a gameplan.”

In his haste… Rusty was going to need a bit of ice for his hand. Turns out the bright orange burning end of a log was not the exact location in which one would want to grab a log from a roaring fire.

MNR Officer Marlin Salty witnessed Rusty’s faux pas and watched him quickly grab a wet flannel to conceal the sting. But it was Tawny’s voice, the one that Floats His Boat, that quickly took away the ache as he found a place at her table.

–To Be Continued—